


To Own a Heart

by Eien_Ni



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Reincarnation fic, Suicidal Thoughts, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eien_Ni/pseuds/Eien_Ni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one thing he remembers vividly - in this lifetime, at least - is the way Jack feels in his arms. If Kozmotis closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s holding Jack close, carding fingers through his hair. He can feel Jack’s cool fingers trace over his lips, can see those impossibly blue eyes sparkling as Jack whispers something entirely inappropriate that leaves Kozmotis hard and aching.</p><p>Soon, Kozmotis promises himself. Soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Own a Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Recollection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/975367) by [Kalael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael). 



> A very big thank you to [Kalael](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael) for allowing me to write this! If anyone is interested, here is my [tumblr](http://drowning-inthe-feels.tumblr.com/).  
>  **PLEASE NOTE: there are suicidal thoughts later in the story. Please be careful while reading.**

It begins with what is just supposed to be a simple check-up. Kozmotis hasn’t been feeling the greatest lately. He’s been dizzy and fatigued, with the occasional fainting spell. Although he insists that it’s nothing to worry about, his colleague Sanderson convinces him to make an appointment with his doctor.

Kozmotis goes along with it, joking that he’s going to be wasting money just to be told he needs to slow down and relax. Which is impossible for him at the moment, since he’s working on a new case. As a lawyer, his days are spent interviewing and evaluating, and his nights are pretty much the same, but, just to get Sanderson off his back, Kozmotis agrees to go to a doctor. He doesn’t like doctors. He never has, neither in this life nor any of his previous ones. They always gave bad news.

Perhaps that is the underlying reason why he doesn’t wish to see the doctor. The lurking fear that there will be a diagnosis worse than what he expects. That always happens. He and Jack never have their happy ending.

The door to the examination room opens, drawing his attention away from such thoughts, and he greets the doctor, a cheerful older man with gray hair and a long beard. Doctor St. North, or North as he asks to be called, begins asking questions straightaway, concerning Kozmotis’ health. Kozmotis answers as truthfully as he is able. Or as truthfully as he wishes to be, anyway.

At one point, North turns away to write on his clipboard, and Kozmotis feels a pain in his chest. He has felt it before, but brushed it off as nothing to be worried about. North notices, despite Kozmotis’ attempts to hide it.

“There is something wrong with your heart, yes?”

“Ah, possibly a slight touch of heartburn,” Kozmotis answers, waving a hand in reply.

“Have you had this pain before?”

Kozmotis opens his mouth to lie, but the intense look that North is currently giving him makes him rethink. “Yes.”

“I am going to run tests on you. I am not liking the sound of this,” North says carefully, “but hopefully I am proved wrong and it is nothing too serious, yes?”

Kozmotis can do nothing except nod. Anxiety creeps upon him, enveloping him, and he closes his eyes.

This is exactly what he was afraid of.

\-----

Several tests and weeks later finds Kozmotis back in North’s office. The usually genial man is somber, which leaves Kozmotis genuinely fearful of what he is going to say. He tries to tell himself that it is nothing he can’t get through, that he has likely been through much worse, and that eases his nerves a bit.

But nothing can prepare him for the shock of what the diagnosis really is.

Kozmotis stares at the doctor, unwilling to believe what he has just heard. The doctor keeps talking, but it all fades into a background noise. That one sentence loops over and over in his mind.

_“You need a heart transplant, or you’re going to die.”_

He runs a hand down his face. He’s only thirty-two years old. Much too young for any of this. He feels numb and cold, and all he wants to do is crawl back into bed and start the day over, with different results.

“Kozmotis, you have not even heard a word I have said.” The doctor’s tone is irritated, and Kozmotis winces.

“I apologize. I haven’t been able to hear a word past ‘heart transplant,’” he replies wryly.

North sighs. “We are needing to discuss treatments until we find a heart for you, which could be a while. There is possibility you may even die before receiving a new heart.”

Kozmotis goes numb once more, and he inhales sharply. “That is not an option,” he says flatly. And it’s not. He can’t die. Not yet.

He and Jack have not met.

\-----

In actuality, Kozmotis’ impending death is entirely his fault. His habit of smoking almost an entire pack of cigarettes every day led to hardening of the arteries, which contributed to severe coronary artery disease, and as a result, ended up as dilated cardiomyopathy. In short, the left ventricle of his heart is enlarged and weakened, decreasing the blood flow.

As soon as Kozmotis walks into his house, he throws away the cigarettes. It’s much too late to do any good now, but he figures quitting won’t hurt in the long run. He stares at the three packs in the trash can and wonders why he never did this before. It would have saved his life, literally.

But there’s nothing to be done about it now. He has to live with the consequences of his choices. Or would it be, die from the consequences of his choices, seeing as how the doctor seems convinced that Kozmotis doesn’t have much time left.

A fact that Kozmotis is determined to prove false.

With a heavy sigh, he lays down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He knows more information about heart transplants and the risks than he ever wanted to know. Statistics and data jumble together in his head. Golden eyes close, and Kozmotis wearily lifts a hand to rub his forehead. He’s so tired. At this moment, he wants to sleep forever.

A laugh escapes before he can catch it, and soon his shoulders are shaking in hysterical mirth as tears roll down his cheeks. His heart flutters painfully, but he cannot stop. It only serves to make him even more acutely aware of his situation.

He is dying, and there is nothing he can do to stop it.

\-----

Side effects are not pleasant. He has fatigue, heart palpitations, and dizziness. Kozmotis soon begins a cocktail of medicines. He has one to treat his arrhythmia, and one to specifically treat the heart failure. He is also on a blood thinner, which proves to be interesting on more than one occasion.

He faints once in his kitchen and wakes up to broken glass surrounding him, blood pooling around his arm. He barely manages to get up, dizzy from the blood loss, and call for help. He is a very lucky young man, he is told by countless people once he is able to leave the hospital, since he almost died that day.

Kozmotis wants to laugh and tell them how many times he has actually died. He would, too, if he could only remember the exact number. A couple hundred? A thousand? But he says nothing. Just grits his teeth and smiles and thanks them for their thoughts.

\-----

Time passes.

Each day, Kozmotis wakes up and thinks that this is the day. This is the day when he and Jack will be reunited. He has waited for thirty-two years, and he is impatient and afraid.

He fears - as days slide into weeks, and weeks into months - that he will not live to see Jack in this lifetime. Even if he only sees Jack for a day before he dies, that is fine with him. He just wants to see Jack. Wants to make sure that Jack is doing well this time around, because God knows that in other lives, Jack lived in some shitty situations.

Kozmotis is also afraid that Jack remembers him and is also searching for him. If Kozmotis dies before they meet, then Jack will most likely continue on his quest, believing Kozmotis to be alive. That is how it worked some of the other times, each of them searching for the other. At least, he thinks that’s the way it was. There are too many lifetimes to remember correctly.

The one thing he remembers vividly - in this lifetime, at least - is the way Jack feels in his arms. If Kozmotis closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s holding Jack close, carding fingers through his hair. He can feel Jack’s cool fingers trace over his lips, can see those impossibly blue eyes sparkling as Jack whispers something entirely inappropriate that leaves Kozmotis hard and aching.

Soon, Kozmotis promises himself. Soon.

\-----

It’s a Friday night when everything changes.

Kozmotis is awoken at two in the morning by a nurse who tells him that they have a heart for him. A bevy of emotions all clamor for first place: surprise, anxiety, excitement. He has waited for this day for so long, and finally it is here.

But even if the surgery goes well, there are still obstacles to overcome. It is possible that his body will reject the new heart, or that he will get an infection. He will also have to take different medications for the rest of his life, exercise, and follow a special diet. But all of that will be worth the hassle once he is able to meet Jack.

\-----

The surgery is a success.

Three days after his surgery, Kozmotis is going stir crazy, staring at the four white walls of the hospital room that encompass him. He has today’s newspaper, catching up on what has happened while he’s recovering. He realizes that Sanderson’s case has made the news. He hasn’t received many details about it, since he has been busy with his own job and it is an ongoing case.

Apparently, a young man is pressing charges against an ex-boyfriend for aggravated assault. Or he was pressing charges before he was murdered by said ex.

Kozmotis shakes his head and wonders if the victim was subjected to regular abuse, or if this was something that had only occurred once. Reading further, he finds that the defendant shot the victim right through the head four days ago.

Kozmotis actually turned down that case in favor of the one he was working on before his health rapidly declined. The one he chose was high profile, garnering more attention. While some lawyers stay away from those, Kozmotis welcomes them. It challenges him, motivates him to do his best. Not to mention, it also gives him more good press, which is something every lawyer needs.

He flips further into the paper, and out of a morbid curiosity, scans the obituaries. It’s a habit he has fallen into ever since receiving the news about his heart condition. Some days there are more younger people, while other times mostly elderly people fill the page.

Today is looking to be like the latter one, except for one he finds as he’s reading through one. The words ‘age twenty-two’ jump out at him, and he switches his focus to read it. There’s no mention of cause of death, which Kozmotis figures to mean a suicide or murder. No family, either dead or surviving, is listed. Odd, Kozmotis thinks as his gaze slides up to the name.

_Jackson Frost._

Kozmotis stops breathing. It’s as if the entire world has halted on its axis. He can do nothing except stare at the two words, lungs burning as he struggles to remember how to breathe.

A small part of him hopes that it is someone entirely different who just so happens to have the same name, but that hope is instantly shattered the second he lays eyes on the picture.

It’s Jack.

His Jack.

Jack who still has that same mischievous smirk, the same glint in his eyes. Kozmotis’ heart lurches painfully, and he gasps, pressing a hand carefully to his chest. He frantically searches for the date of death and finds that Jack died four days ago.

No.

Kozmotis sinks back against the pillows, staring at Jack’s picture as he raises trembling fingers to it. He gently traces Jack’s face before his fingers curl into a fist as the overwhelming pain of loss courses through him. Golden eyes close against the tears that threaten to fall, and he curls in on himself in an attempt to lessen the pain.

At some point while he was in surgery receiving his new heart, Jack was dying somewhere, most likely alone since there was no memorial or funeral services listed in his obituary. He wonders if he can find out where Jack is buried so he can visit once he leaves the hospital.

It won’t be the first time he’s visited Jack’s grave, and it certainly won’t be the last. But for as many times as he has been through this, it still hurts just as bad every single time. Every time he watches Jack die, everytime he sees his lifeless body. There is a sharp ache that persists, never goes away or dulls. The feeling that he is missing part of himself, and until he finds it, things will never be right. As long as he and Jack are separated, whether it be by death or not having met yet, he will just be drifting through life, surviving until they are together once more.

Once again, no happy ending for either of them.

Kozmotis carefully folds the newspaper, making sure to leave Jack’s picture on the outside so he can see it. He makes a mental note to ask for a pair of scissors so he can properly cut it out and put it in his wallet.

Later that day, while Kozmotis is still subdued in his grief, Sanderson comes to see him. The short, chubby man isn’t smiling as he usually is. His brows are furrowed together, and he clutches an envelope in his hands. “Kozmotis.” He hesitates.

“Sanderson? What’s wrong?” Kozmotis asks.

Sanderson just shakes his head, purses his lips, before handing the envelope to Kozmotis. “This is for you.”

He takes it, and there, written across the front in messy handwriting that is so clearly Jack’s, is the name _Kozmotis Pitchiner._

“He did remember me,” he breathes. His hands are shaking as he tries to open the envelope without ripping anything, but he finally gives up and tears it open. A single piece of paper is inside, and he pulls it out.

_Kozmotis,_

_If you’re reading this, then I guess that means I’m dead. I’ve been looking for you my entire life, and us finding each other wasn’t in the cards this time around. But even though our circumstances have changed, my feelings for you haven’t._

_I still love you, and I will wait forever for you. Don’t ever give up._

_Love,_

_Jack_

The tears that Kozmotis held back before now trail down his cheeks. He cannot stop the flow. He crushes the letter to his chest, only to quickly straighten it back out. It’s the only thing he has left of Jack. He can’t ruin it.

Kozmotis soon becomes aware of Sanderson sitting beside him, patting his hand soothingly. As his shuddering breaths even out, he offers his colleague a shaky smile.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “But how did you ever get hold of this letter?” He doubts that the police would so diligently search for a Kozmotis Pitchiner just to give him a letter. They probably even assumed that this Kozmotis would step forward and claim the body, if he was special enough to have an envelope with his name written across the front.

Sanderson replies, “I was representing him in court. He was the one with the ex who murdered him a few days ago.” He stares worriedly at Kozmotis, anxious for his response.

Kozmotis’ face pales. That is the case he turned down in favor of the high profile one. If he had only inquired more about the case when it was offered to him, he would have found Jack sooner. He failed Jack, all because he wanted the glory of winning a big case.

“Where is he buried?” His voice cracks, and he is tired. So tired.

But Sanderson refuses to give it out, telling Kozmotis that he will take him there once he is allowed to leave the hospital. Kozmotis supposes that is fair. After all, if he finds out where Jack’s grave is, he will not wait until he is better to visit. Not now. Not after discovering that Jack remembered him.

Sanderson stays for a few more minutes. Then he leaves, telling Kozmotis to rest and gain his strength back.

Kozmotis is lost in thought once he is alone again. His mind plays out various scenarios of what could have been, had he just taken that one case. He and Jack could have had a few months together at least. Or maybe Jack’s life would have been saved. Jack would not have been alone and vulnerable. His ex might not have been able to kill him then, for Kozmotis, if he had Jack in his arms once more, would not have let him leave his side.

His gaze snaps over to the open door as a nurse walks into the room. She’s a cheerful, tiny thing, and nearly every time he sees her, she has a different color streaked through her hair. Today it’s purple.

“How are you feeling today?” Toothiana asks with a smile that disappears as she takes in his quiet demeanor. “Your face is pale, Kozmotis. Are you in pain? Any side effects that we discussed before your surgery?”

Kozmotis shakes his head. “Just tired,” he offers her a thin smile, and she nods in understanding.

“Just take it easy, okay? You have a new heart, and you don’t want anything to happen to it. Lucky things tend to only happen once in a lifetime, you know.”

Kozmotis grunts. He has been lucky in past lifetimes to find Jack, but that’s as far as his luck extends. One or both of them die, and the cycle begins all over again. He stares at the picture, studying Jack’s face even though it’s already imprinted in his mind.

“Oh!” Toothiana exclaims. “Jackson Frost.”

“Did you know him?” Kozmotis asks sharply.

“Not personally. Poor kid. He got in with the wrong guy. It’s so sad that he died, but he was an organ donor. Even with his death, he has helped three other people live.” She smiles warmly at him. “Including you.”

Kozmotis jolts. Terror rips through him. She can’t mean what he thinks she does. He’s misunderstood her words. There’s no way…

Toothiana continues, unaware of his impending meltdown. “He was a perfect match for you, and now you have a new heart.”

A strangled cry rents through the air, and Kozmotis doesn’t realize it’s him until Toothiana cups his face in her hands, her eyes wide. She fires questions at him - does his chest hurt, is he in pain, how bad is the pain - but he is beyond hearing them.

If what she said is true…

If Jack was indeed a perfect match…

Jack has literally given his heart to Kozmotis.

Kozmotis clutches at his chest, ignoring the cries of the nurse. He doesn’t want to live. He is only alive because Jack died. Jack died because Kozmotis didn’t care about that one case that was a waste of his valuable time, as he so aptly worded it. He vaguely hears the nurse call out for a sedative, lest he tear his stitches. The world begins to fade to black, but he’s not sure if it’s from the sedatives or because his - no, it’s not _his_ , it’s _Jack’s_ \- heart is failing.

Yes, Kozmotis thinks as he sinks into oblivion, let me die.

\-----

In the end, he doesn’t die. He wakes up the next morning, Sanderson sitting quietly beside him, and it’s all Kozmotis can do to not scream and curse at Sanderson to leave. It hurts, seeing the man who was defending Jack, who was probably one of the last people to see Jack alive.

He thinks about death a lot. About how easy it would be to overdose on his medication. To find a gun, put it against his head, and pull the trigger - just the way Jack died.

He wants death, but he will not seek it out. Kozmotis realizes that Jack has given him life, and while it’s a life without Jack, Kozmotis doesn’t want to waste it. He knows Jack would be furious with him if he killed himself.

So even though he’s desperate to see Jack again, even though it prolongs the time they are apart, Kozmotis lives. He keeps Jack’s letter and his obituary picture in a pocket of his shirt, directly over Jack’s heart beating strongly in his chest.


End file.
